


An Anatomy of Our Failures

by slow-smiles (the_irish_mayhem)



Series: An Anatomy of Our Failures [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gen, Hooked Queen siblings, The Enchanted Forest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 04:11:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8313520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_irish_mayhem/pseuds/slow-smiles
Summary: Hooked Queen siblings AU. Cora sold Liam and Killian to obtain a suitable dowry so that Regina could marry Leopold. Years later, Liam is dead and Killian is on a warpath. Who better as an ally to take down a corrupt king than the Evil Queen?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Posting as a birthday gift for the wonderful brooke-to-broch on tumblr. Happy birthday, lovely!
> 
> This is technically a part of a series, but don't hold your breath for any consequent parts.

**_Then_ **

When they were small, Regina used to take them to the meadow past the stables. Whenever Mother got into a state, she would bundle them out of the house as quickly as possible, would help Killian tie his boots because he hadn’t quite learned how yet, and walk between Liam, who was almost as tall as she was now and had started to figure out why they took so many walks whenever Mother’s voice started to raise, and Killian, who was still little enough that he got excited whenever they saw grasshoppers on the path.

“Gina!” he’d cry, dragging at her hand and pointing to the insects as they hopped across the dirt, “Can we catch one?”

She’d smile, a genuine one that pulled at her cheeks and almost made her forget the hellstorm that would be awaiting her when she returned home.

“Of course,” she told him, and then turned, “Liam, can you--” She was already dreading going back to the house, let alone if she had grass stains at the edge of her skirt.

Liam nodded. “Yeah, c’mon Killian.” They waded into the grass that was almost up to Killian’s knees.

Regina glanced back towards the house, shrouded by the trees now and shrunken by distance. She can almost imagine she can feel Mother’s anger leaking from the house, can almost feel the thudding of the hearts that she tried to keep her brothers far away from.

“Hi, Daniel!” Regina turned at the sound of Killian’s voice, and in an instant, the stress melted from her shoulders, she forgot an hour from now, she forgot Mother’s anger for an instant because Daniel Colter was grinning at her little brother.

“Hello, Sir Killian. Hunting dangerous beasts today, I see.”

Killian would always get excited whenever Daniel referred to him as though he were a knight. “Liam’s helping me look for grasshoppers!”

“A dire task indeed. I’m glad our realms are in such capable hands.” Daniel grinned at Liam then, bestowed an affectionate shoulder squeeze before he made his way to Regina.

He’d been aware of their position within sight of the house, so he didn’t move to touch her, only stood next to her as Liam tried to keep Killian from running after a bullfrog.

“One of those days?” he asked her, voice low so that her brothers wouldn’t hear.

“Yes. I’m not sure what set her off this time.”

Daniel looked down at the ground. “I don’t want you to go back there.”

“I don’t have much of a choice.” She needed to make sure Liam got up and off to school in the morning. Killian needed her when their brother was gone. He loved the library, would pull books down one after the other so that she could read to him. _This one next, Gina!_ And she’d help him trace his finger across the page so that he could read with her. He was like a little sponge, learning new things almost as fast as she could show them to him.

So many _once upon a time_ s, so many _happily ever after_ s in those books they both loved.

Daniel suggested, “Well if we… if we left, we could take them with us.”

Regina inhaled sharply. They’d discussed eloping, but she hadn’t heard a better reason to leave than to protect Liam and Killian.

“I’ll…” She swallowed deeply. “I’ll think about it.”

But then--

Plans became unreachable dreams, and telling her brothers that Daniel wasn’t going to be around anymore was one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do.

**_Now_ **

Captain Jones, by all accounts, is a rather unremarkable pirate.

(It won’t be until later that he becomes Captain Hook, the scourge of the seas, the boogeyman used to scare children in their beds, the murderer whose name strikes fear into the hearts of Naval ships, the calculating warrior who plans with surgical precision his attacks, the dogged pursuer of the Dark One who fears no man or woman, beast or demon.)

(He is not him yet.)

His first foray into piracy had revealed just how little he knew about what he was getting into, and he’d lost a good number of his original crew at their first docking. The ones that mattered, though, the ones who had known Liam personally, had followed the Brothers Jones into the jaws of death and come out on the other side, they stuck by him and they were able to cobble together a crew by enticing them with vague promises of riches from King John’s kingdom.

(“King John?” one of them asks. “Bloke’s got the most powerful Navy in the world! Fool’s errand, trying to steal anything from him.”

And with that, Captain Jones grins, almost a Captain Hook grin, but not quite. “We stole the jewel of his fleet right out from under his nose.” Even in pirate garb that doesn’t quite feel natural yet, Killian can feel it settling into his bones. Like the first time he sailed and the sea seeped into his skin and refused to leave. “Now tell me again that attacking a cowardly king is a fool’s errand.”)

Despite the crew, the ship, the loyalty of his officers, he knows they cannot take on John. Not by themselves. They’d had many successes in the months since their desertion and turn to piracy, and that helped instill confidence, but Killian knows better than to rely on ego. Liam always taught him to never sail unprepared. (And the last time they sailed together, Liam didn’t take his own advice, and they hoisted the Pegasus sail and sealed his brother’s fate.)

Killian will not make that same mistake again.

As they sail out of port, Captain Jones stands at the helm with his first mate at his side. Starkey asks, “Do we have a heading, Captain?”

As much as it makes his blood boil, he can swallow his own hurt feelings long enough to avenge his brother. He can grind his teeth until they’re blunted and bury his rage until he feels like he’s going to vomit if it means _she’ll_ help him.

“Aye,” he answers. “I’ve already plotted it myself.”

He hands Starkey the map, looking out at the waves and waiting for his first mate’s comments.

“Misthaven?” Starkey asks. “Been some time since we’ve sailed to the Enchanted Forest. Last I heard, the Evil Queen was still ravaging those lands.”

“And Misthaven is her seat of power,” Killian says. “I intend to pay her a visit.”

There’s a brief, heavy pause. Killian knows exactly what his first mate is thinking. “That seems ill-advised,” Starkey finally replies. “She’s got several kingdom’s worth of military at her disposal.”

“Which she wastes waging her civil war against one woman,” Killian says. “Slipping Naval patrols will not be difficult if we sail dark.”

“May I ask why you’re seeking an audience with a woman they say is mad?”

“I have reason to believe she will help us.”

Starkey reads correctly that his captain will say no more on the matter, and leaves Killian to his thoughts.

It does not take them long to sail to Misthaven, and under the cover of darkness they snuff out each and every lamp aboard the ship until it is only the halved moon and stars lighting the deck. Slipping the patrols is as easy as Killian had predicted, and as dawn begins to break, they’ve already made arrangements with (bribed) the harbormaster and docked the Jolly. With her colors drawn down, she looks like any other Naval ship--in a fairly better condition than most, but far less remarkable than a vessel flying the pirate flag.

They dismiss their crew for shore leave and warn if they have not returned by high noon tomorrow, they will be left behind.

Starkey volunteers to stay behind. He’s an older sea dog, once a small-time hemp merchant whose Naval commission was always something of a mystery to Killian as the man seemed to have no great love of king or country, but he’s made it clear in the past that his days of drinking himself blind and whoring his way through brothels is no longer his preferred way to spend his time.

“Do you have a plan, Captain?” Starkey asks.

“Of course I have a plan,” he replies, and disembarks before it can become clear that he most certainly does not have anything resembling a plan. He ventures out on the headwinds of prayers that he might be able to count on his sister having some shred of human decency left in her.

If she doesn’t have that, he had gone through great lengths to obtain a bottle of squid ink, something he was assured would disable any magical being.

The Evil Queen’s palace is several hours from the sea by horseback. He steals a fit-looking black gelding from outside a tavern before setting out.

Misthaven’s dense, broad-leaf forests are characteristic of the rest of the Enchanted Forest, and if Killian were not so skilled at navigation, he surely would have lost his way and never returned. As it is, land is still a different beast than the sea, and his progress is slowed slightly by meticulous checking of his map.

When he finds it, it nearly takes his breath away. It’s quite the sight, the shining black castle that looks more like dozens of shards of obsidian had been thrust into this realm from Hell itself set into the unblemished, almost innocent natural beauty of Misthaven.

He doesn’t spend too much time looking upon it. He has a job to do, a quest to complete.

The lead up to the front entry of the palace is through a valley with absolutely no cover, so it’s no surprise to him that a contingent of knights on horseback is sent out to greet him.

One of them, clearly their leader, says on their approach, “You are trespassing upon the grounds of Her Royal Majesty’s palace. You are lucky she is in a forgiving mood, or else you’d have an arrow through your neck.” He’s quickly surrounded, and he pulls his gelding to a halt.

“I’d like an audience with your queen,” he answers.

The knight eyes him. “And why do you think you deserve such an honor?”

Killian puts on his most charming smile. “Tell her that Killian Jones is here to see her, and let her decide for herself.”

_**Then** _

They weren’t in their beds when Regina went to awaken them that morning. It shouldn’t strike fear into her heart--they were young boys, getting older and more independent by the day. Surely they wouldn’t always wait for their older sister to come fetch them to begin their morning activities.

But ever since Daniel, ever since she watched her mother crush his heart to dust in front of her--

She didn’t have the luxury of not being afraid.

“Liam?” she called out, the shaking in her voice far beyond her control. “Killian?” She tried again, louder, and still with no response. Her heart pounded in her throat, her lungs heaved stale air, and her hands quivered so much so that she buried them in her skirts to hide them and squeezed as hard as she could.

“Darling,” came the voice of Cora, “why are you shouting?”

Regina whirled, a thousand images tumbling through her head. What if they had awoken before Regina and Mother was in one of her moods? What if Regina wasn’t there to protect them? God knows Daddy wouldn’t lift a finger to help any of them, so it was all on Regina to--

“Where are Liam and Killian?” she asked.

Cora waved a hand, chuckling softly. “Oh, they’re fine. I have some excellent news for you.”

Regina didn’t care what news her mother had for her, she just needed to see them, make sure they were okay and then she could just deal with whatever it was that Cora wanted.

Her mother continued, “A rider came from the palace today bearing a message.” Cora collected her daughter’s hands in hers with the most genuine smile Regina could ever recall seeing on her face. “The king wishes to marry you and make you his Queen.” Said as though it were an achievement, a reward. The air had already been stolen from Regina’s lungs when she discovered her brothers’ beds empty, and at that moment she feared she might well and truly pass out.

“I don’t want to marry the king,” she choked out. Where were they, _gods_ , where were her brothers? She didn’t know how she knew it, but something in her was telling her that Cora had done something that couldn’t be undone.

“Oh, Regina, yes you do,” Cora scolded. “It’s what’s best for you. It’s what we’ve been working towards your whole life. You’ll see. You’ll get to be queen, my darling.”

“No, no, I--I’m not... I don’t want to be queen. Send a message back and say I won’t do it.”

Cora’s smile falls, and Regina winces as her mother’s grip on her hands becomes a bit less kind. “I will do no such thing. I’ve already secured your dowry, and you will not squander this opportunity you’ve been given.”

There’d been something about the way she said it, _secured your dowry._ Regina still doesn’t quite know how she knew what her mother had done, but in that moment, every fear came burning up beneath her skin, behind her eyes, in her throat.

“Where are Liam and Killian?” she asked again, dreading the answer but knowing it was coming. “Mother, where are they?”

Cora’s hands release hers, coming up to her shoulders instead. “There are plenty of ships coming through port who are looking for good indentured servants to keep as cabin boys--”

Regina felt like she was going to vomit. “You sold them,” she whispered. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t--

“They were illegitimate,” Cora said, as though they were of no consequence. Cora’s own _children_ , Regina’s _little brothers_ \-- “A waste of space and money, if you ask me. The only reason I let them live here at all was because Henry kept _insisting_."

“You sold them,” Regina said again, louder this time, and she ripped herself out of her mothers grasp before she screamed, “ _You sold them!_ Your own children, how could you? You’re a monst--”

Regina didn’t get a chance to finish before she was being thrown against the wall by her mother’s magic, held there harshly as pain bloomed through her head and down her neck.

“You will never take that tone with me, young lady.” Regina felt an invisible noose tighten around her neck, a familiar caress that tightened just enough to threaten. “I’m doing all of this for _you_. Be grateful for this chance that I have worked so hard to get you. You will be happy when you are queen, Regina, why can’t you see that? I’m just trying to make you happy! And what do I get? An ungrateful little brat who accuses me of not loving my children. It’s because I love you that I do this, darling. Can’t you see that?”

Regina became aware of the tears pouring down her face as she nodded. The magical bonds released and she dropped to her knees, sucking in gasps of air as she was able to breath properly.

“This will make you happy, darling,” Cora said above her. Regina looked up. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

Regina hesitated. Nodded again.

Cora smiled. “That’s my good girl.”

Later, when the king, her husband, led her to their marriage bed and stripped off her clothes, she closed her eyes, and lost herself in the memory of blue eyes and small hands that she would never see again.

( _You’ll be happy when you’re queen Regina._ )

( _Gina! Can we catch one?_ )

Leopold pretended to not see her tears.

**_Now_ **

She tells the knights to bring her this man immediately. Whoever he is, she is going to make him suffer for pretending to be someone she knows she will never see again. She will find out how he knows that name, how he knows what it means to her, then she will watch him die slowly, will relish his screams.

She waits for the doors to open sitting on her throne. She knows she makes an intimidating sight when she does.

The throne room doors open, her knights flanking a tall man wearing black. He walks with a swagger that looks entirely feigned to her eyes, but...

Even at a distance, she can see his eyes.

In that second she _knows,_ before she can even take in his face, before she can recognize the pieces of the little boy with tiny hands and a round face grown into a man with sharp cheekbones and dark scruff.

“Hello, sister.”

His voice is deeper, masculine, accented, and Regina feels a pang that she missed everything. She missed him growing up. She missed lost teeth and outgrowing clothes, voice cracks and first crushes. She missed all of it.

“Leave us,” she commands the knights.

“Milady--”

“I said _leave us_ ,” she repeats, aggravated, and the knights scramble for the door, knowing to not trifle with their queen when she gives an order.

The door slams, and they’re alone.

Regina descends her dais, the Evil Queen mask dropping. “Killian?”

She’s not sure what she expects from him. If she wants him to throw his arms around her, let her pull him in close because she can’t remember the last time someone hugged her, the last time someone showed her genuine affection without flinching. If he’ll cry, if he’ll tell her how much he missed her, if he’ll say he forgives her--

Instead, he gives her a bow, says, no, _sneers_ , “Wonderful to make your acquaintance, Your Majesty.”

It makes her stop in her tracks, makes her blood freeze in her veins. This isn’t... He’s...

“And it’s Captain Jones now.”

Her swallow feels like she’s forcing cotton down her throat. “I thought-- You were--”

He nods before interrupting, “Not expecting to see me, were you? Thought that after you and Mother hatched the plan to sell us, you’d never see us again, aye?”

“Hatched the--Killian, that’s not what happened, I didn’t... I could never--”

“Save it,” he snaps, another arrow to her already bleeding heart. “I’d rather not have to stomach any more lies from you.”

“They’re not lies. Killian, I never wanted to...” she has trouble getting the words out under his eyes, “I never wanted to sell you. Mother took you before I awoke and forced me to marry Leopold. I didn’t want any of this.”

“Oh, you never wanted any of this? You were forced to do something you didn’t want?” Fire burns in his eyes, and beneath that intense hurt that Regina has no idea how to fix or soothe. “How unfortunate for you.”

A hot flash of anger cuts through her. “That’s not what I meant,” she snaps. She moves to send him flying across the throne room out of habit, but--

_This one next, Gina!_

She diverts her magic at the last second, shattering a mirror behind him. She pulls her wrist down, and tries to quell the anger that her dark magic had only made grow. “You and Liam...” she says, and she feels her darkness begin to dissipate like weakening storm clouds. She releases her wrist and meets his eye again. She notes that he had partially drawn his sword, and still keeps his hand on the hilt.

He’s afraid of her.

Normally, that’s a reaction she expects, demands, _craves_.

“You were everything to me,” she says, as earnest as she can be and it’s draining after so long being angry and guarded. “After Daniel... you both were the reason I got up in the morning.”

“If we meant so much to you, why’d you never come looking?”

“I did,” she answered on a breath of relief. Maybe he would listen. Maybe he would understand. “As soon as I had the resources of being queen I started looking for you.” She blinks hard, and she knows her chin is shaking, but she can’t look weak right now, she needs him to _understand_. “But you found me,” she says finally, a small smile on her lips. “Where is Liam? We’ll be together again, and we can--”

“Liam is dead.”

She freezes. “What?”

“Liam is dead,” he spits.

She feels as if the wind has been knocked out of her.

Her little brother with the blond curls and kind smile, who was such a good role model for Killian, who was just old enough to start understanding why Regina made them leave the house so often, start asking questions about the bruises Regina tried to keep hidden--

“When? How?”

Regina watches as Killian visibly deflates, and he refuses to meet her eyes. “We were passed from master to master for years. Eventually, Liam managed to scrape enough together to buy our freedom and two Naval commissions. I nearly ruined...” He shakes his head quickly at whatever path of thought he’d been about to venture down.

Regina is quietly startled because freedom alone would’ve cost them more than they could reasonably make in a lifetime as slaves, let alone even a single Naval commission. She privately wonders what Liam did to secure them their positions, because Killian clearly has no idea.

Her brother continues, “Are you aware of King John of Bravia?”

“Unfortunately.” She’s had her eye on his kingdom for years--a strategic gemstone across the Chasm Sea that would bode well for protecting the whole of the Enchanted Forest should she manage to secure it. Even if had been a backwater kingdom made up entirely of uneducated pig farmers, she’d be interested in conquering it because King John is the sort of man Regina would love to stab in the gut and watch slowly bleed out on the floor. He is underhanded, cruel, a weasel if she’d ever seen one, and engaged in inappropriate relations with at least four different underaged servants under his wife’s nose.

“Our commissions were for the Bravian Navy.”

Regina already doesn’t like where this is going.

“We sailed for a few years without major incident, until we received direct orders from King John himself. He went over the heads of our superior officers to tell us to sail to Neverland, where he told us we would find a plant that would heal even the direst of wounds and sicknesses.”

Regina has heard of Neverland, and if what she knows about it is true, she seriously doubts that anything to be found there has healing properties.

“Liam kept saying that we had our orders, and that we needed to trust our king. But what John sent us after was a _poison_ ,” Killian spits the word out. “An incurable poison that dripped from these thorns and I should’ve _known_ that it wasn’t what we were led to believe, but...” Killian goes still and finally meets her eyes when he says, “Liam insisted that our king would never send us on such a dishonorable mission, and used it on himself to convince me. If I just hadn’t been so bloody stubborn...” he trails off, his silence speaking volumes.

“Killian--” Regina tries, stepping forward without a clear goal in mind but knowing she felt this deep pull to comfort her brother, this piece of her heart that’s been missing for too long.

But he steps away, and she watches as the piece of her heart refuses to mend with the rest. “I don’t need your pity,” he snaps. “I just need your help.”

“How? Name it.”

There’s a malicious gleam in his eye that is all too familiar. “I hear you’re a good woman to ask about vengeance.”

She feels her own fire stir, the coals that she normally tends with tantalizing images of Snow White’s lifeless body, but now they are a roaring flame as she imagines Liam’s eyes going dark, his body falling. She doesn’t know what he looked like as a man, and now she never will, so she imagines him as she’d last seen him, the night before Mother took them away. Imagines the pain of watching someone else she loves die right in front of--

“I say,” Regina says slowly, deliberately, conjuring a fireball in her palm, “we make him burn for it.”

Killian’s smile is just as twisted as hers, and somewhere deep down that feels wrong, but it’s not hard to quiet the pain in loathing and the deep need for revenge.

**_Then_ **

In the years prior to Leopold’s demise, she’d spent countless hours currying favor with not only the upper class lords and ladies that would assure her throne even after the king who made her queen was gone, but the ranking military officials who would be certain to keep her there.

Rear Admiral Lyle Tiberius Rourke was one such official. Before she’d disposed of Leopold, he was simply a Captain. She had little respect for him as a person, but wouldn’t deny his military prowess, and was rather certain that the only reason he remained a Captain rather than being allowed to climb the ranks was because of Leopold’s sentimentality. His weakness.

She trusted enough in his loyalty and desire for power that she could send him on a somewhat sensitive mission.

“I’m in need of someone who is good at finding people, and I think you could be that person,” she told him. He stood before her dais in dressed down military regalia. She ran a metallic clawed ring over the arm rest of her throne.

“I think you might want to hire a bounty hunter,” he had answered with far too much cheek and confidence for her liking.

With a shift of her fingers she made the room go cold and the beginnings of frost and ice webbed their way up the walls.

Rourke shifted uncomfortably, his eyes flicking to his feet where the ice licked at his boots.

“I very well know exactly what I need,” Regina answered. “What I need is a fleet of ships, and I’m fairly certain most bounty hunters don’t have that at their disposal.” Silently, she cursed every bounty hunter she’d paid for this exact task who repeatedly returned empty handed. Some of their hearts now had secure places in her collection. Others had been crushed to dust.

“If you do this for me, there may be a full Admiral position waiting to be filled upon your return.” Another shift of her fingers and the ice receded as quickly as it had appeared. “And it’s Your Majesty,” she added with enough quiet menace to make most diplomats shake in their boots.

Rourke’s only tell of discomfort was the deep gulp he took, his eyes flickering around a brief moment before refocusing on her. “And what would be my task, Your Majesty?” She’d had him pegged correctly--despite his unseemly manner, he was a man who was willing to crawl over and step on whoever necessary to climb the ladder.

“I’m looking for two men.”

Rouke chuffed. “Must be some pretty important men if you’re sending a fleet after them.”

She tilted her head in a way that looks reptilian in it’s cold calculation. “I have a vested interest in seeing them brought to me.”

“Dead or alive?”

She internally bristled, outwardly smiled. “Living prisoners scream so much more prettily than the dead.”

He nods. “Names?”

“Jones. Liam and Killian Jones.” She hoped that had stayed the same. Mother had never let them take her last name, and thus they had carried the name of their bastard father who’d left them behind without so much as a backwards glance.

It was the only true information she had about them. Cora had never told her to whom or where exactly she’d sold them. Regina told him as much as she could, their ages, their approximate appearances, when they would’ve begun sailing as indentured servants.

In the end, it was made clear she didn’t know much about them, and Rourke began to grouse. “How can you expect me to find two men on the wide open ocean with that much to--”

She was out of her throne with her hand thrust into his chest without much fanfare before closing her fingers around his heart and pulling him closer to her. “I prefer willing participants in my endeavors--” (so many marionettes, so many strings she was pulling, it was hard to keep track of all them) “--so if you’d prefer to keep your heart beating in your chest you will _check your tone_ when you are talking to your queen.”

He gasped, his apology spilling out breathlessly not long after, “I’m sorry, Your Majesty, I will do whatever you wish.”

She released him and watched pitilessly as he stumbled backwards. Deep breaths of air accompany a new tempered fear in his eyes.

 _Perfect_.

And yet, despite his motivation and Regina’s threats, Rourke returned to the castle nearly eleven months later empty handed.

It felt as though her own heart had been ripped out of her chest and crushed, the hopelessness descending on her like a heavy yoke. She crushed the grief pulling at her heart with a scream of rage, and this time when she pushed her hand into his chest, she didn’t pull it out empty handed.

Regina crushed it slowly and let Rourke’s pathetic pleas for mercy drown out the resonance of her own failure.

**_Now_ **

Riding back to port is certainly a much less trying affair than his journey to the palace had been. The embellished carriage was maybe a bit much, even for him, but the powerful black Friesian horses pull them along the road at a breakneck pace, and they make excellent time back to the harbor.

When they arrive, Killian mentions needing time to gather his crew back up. “We’re not sailing with a crew,” Regina says.

Killian scoffs. “Then we’re not sailing at all. I understand your tendency towards misanthropy, sister, but without a crew, the Jolly won’t even make it out of port.”

“Not a problem,” she says, and with a few quick gestures that produce dark purple sparks that expand, flutter in a dark red and orange colored breeze that flows over the ship and sinks into the sails, the deck, the rigging.

At first, there’s a brief flare of panic as he watches the magic run over his ship. “What the bloody hell did you just do?” he demands, rushing for the gangplank.

“Made it so we don’t need a crew,” she answers simply.

The preparations for sailing are easier than they ever have been. The ship responds to exactly what he wants it to do, trimming, jibbing, all of it.

Starkey is less than enthused, but the man generally isn’t enthused about much. His eyes track Regina as she boards the Roger. Her black knight escorts stay behind.

“Are you sure about this, sir?”

“As sure as I can be.”

His first mate purses his lips. His old eyes are contemplative and hard to read.

Killian continues, “Tell the crew who come back they’re free to wait. I’ll return with the ship in a fortnight. They are welcome to a cut of whatever I can take from John. If they choose to move on, no need to stop them.”

Starkey just keeps staring.

“If you’ve something to say, speak now or forever hold your peace, mate.”

He answers simply, “I hope you find your justice for the Captain.”

It’s easier than having a crew he realizes as they sail out of the harbor. It’s easier, but it’s also... quiet.

There’s no Starkey in his ear, asking about plans and headings and possible targets. No Bones and Chico bantering on the deck. All the sounds that make a ship _a ship_ are gone. All he has is the sound of the sea battering the hull, the snap and hush of the sails as the wind pushes them along, and the crows of gulls from the disappearing shoreline.

Soon, they’re leaving Misthaven behind and heading for the open waters of the Chasm Sea. There’s this unnamed craving in his blood for the ocean, for the spray of salt water and the beat of the sun. He can barely remember a time when he hadn’t lived on a ship, when he hadn’t lived without the sway of the waves beneath his feet.

Well, he can remember, but it’s--

She seemed genuine, his sister, when she begged for him to understand that it was solely Cora’s plan to sell him and Liam off to pay for Regina’s marriage. Killian Jones wouldn’t have lasted a month as a pirate if he hadn’t been able to spot a liar with some accuracy.

He watches carefully as his sister emerges from below deck. She’s clad in a dark leather suit with a red coat, topped with a feathered hat. It’s all rather flamboyant, honestly, but if he doesn’t look too hard, she could almost pass for a pirate as she strides toward the prow of the ship.

That is, until a swell shifts the deck beneath her feet and she stumbles sideways and catches herself on the rail. She quickly tries to straighten herself, regain her regal air, only to be thrown off balance once more before she finally reaches the prow and proceeds to hold on for dear life.

A talented enchantress Regina may be, but it seems his and Liam’s propensity for sailing didn’t come from their shared mother.

He locks the wheel before taking a suspicious glance at the sails that adjust on their own and he decends from the helm. It’s strange, but also wildly convenient, he must admit.

As he approaches, he can’t help but taunt, “If only her loyal, terrified subjects could see her now.”

The look she sends him primarily conveys seasickness, but her words fix that moments later, “We might be related but don’t think that means I won’t throw you overboard.”

He chuckles, giving her threat no mind.

She gathers herself enough to stand upright, but she doesn’t take her hand off the rail. “I don’t suppose you have much of a plan,” she says.

“Enough of one,” Killian answers, “I’ve been to the castle for balls and the like. I know my way around. I figure with my swordsmanship and your magic we’ll not face much difficulty reaching him.”

Regina shakes her head. “John is a paranoid bastard. He has magic dampeners all over the main concourses. I won’t be much help if we go through the front door.”

“It’s the only way in I’m familiar with.”

“Then it’s a good thing I know the servant passages,” Regina says. He gives her a look which prompts her to explain, “I’ve had my eye on his kingdom for some time. I likely know more ways to get into his home than he does.”

There’s a flaming stroke of doubt that races through him in that moment. “When he dies, the kingdom will be yours,” he observes.

She nods, seemingly unperturbed. “A fitting end for a wicked king to have his life and legacy taken by a pirate and a queen.”

Killian takes a moment to inhale the salty air. He reaches into his pocket, toying with the bottle he keeps there. Remembers the sound of Liam’s choked attempts at breathing, the blackness of the dreamshade webbing across his skin, the moment he felt his brother’s ribcage expand one last time, his heart giving one last feeble beat against Killian’s palm. “Aye,” he finally says. “A fitting end indeed.”

 

* * *

 

They dock at a lesser known harbor, barely deep enough to accommodate the swell of the Jolly’s hull. They choose these docks because there is no harbormaster to recognize either Bravia’s deserter lieutenant or Misthaven’s violent monarch. Killian’s and her attire draw some looks, but she snaps her fingers and places thin glamour spells over them. It won’t change their looks, but as long as they don’t draw attention to themselves, then passersby will simply overlook them.

“As we discussed,” Regina says as they exit the ship.

Killian nods quickly, an impassive mask over his face.

They’re going to avenge their brother, if it is the last thing they do.

The journey to John’s castle is not long or treacherous, but a few hours by horseback still leaves plenty of time for awkward silence. They’re riding side by side on a wide dirt path, leading uphill through a thick coniferous forest to the plateau that houses the king’s castle.

There’s this burn in her heart that Killian knows all these things about Liam that she never will. Better than she ever will, because he’s dead and gone and there are a million and one scenarios going through her head; what if another ship had been chosen to take the journey to Neverland? What if they’d obtained their commissions from a different kingdom? What if she hadn’t failed, had found them instead?

She shakes that train of thought off quickly. She tries to not be a woman who dwells upon her regrets, upon what ifs and hopes that will never become reality. Better to face what she’s made of her life head on, to plunge into the darkness because that’s what she has chosen for herself, that’s how she’s going to satisfy herself.

But there’s--

She wants to know. Needs it. Even if it doesn’t give her anything, even if it opens another wound in her heart next to the one that was created the day she awoke to find them gone.

Regina screws together her courage and asks, “What was he like?”

Killian turns in his saddle. “Pardon?”

She swallows. “Liam. When he was older. What was he like?”

Something shakes in her brother’s expression, and he looks back ahead. There’s a heavy silence before he asks, “Why do you want to know?”

She jerks away from him as if she’s been slapped. Of course she wants to know, she loves--

She answers, “Is it so hard to believe I cared about him?”

Killian bristles, his shoulders tightening. His horse feels his tension, pulling at the bit until he makes an effort to relax.

“Tall,” he finally says, and she nearly laughs. Nearly. “Stubborn as a bloody ox. The most studious git that ever graced Bravia’s Naval Academy.” His voices comes quieter on the next admission, “The best man I’ll ever know. So good that we’d both likely burn in his presence now.”

His last remark makes her fall silent, the crushing weight of their dead brother’s likely disapproval upon their shoulders. She doesn’t know Liam like Killian knew him. He can probably imagine in exquisite detail how angry Liam would be at them for pursuing their revenge.

She can try to imagine what he might say, but all she can remember is how small he was. He’d hit a growth spurt not long before she married Leopold, and his limbs were starting to become gangly with young adulthood. There were some nights when he’d wake her because his growth pains were too much, and she’d walk him silently around the house until he’d settled enough that he could go back to sleep. The way he’d gently guide Killian, the thrill of having a little brother still not worn off even after the six years since Killian had been born.

(She knows that Daniel would never have wanted this for her but--)

But Liam is gone. And she’s going to make the man responsible suffer for it.

They don’t speak the rest of the way to the castle. Before they break from the trees, they dismount and leave their horses tied up, and Regina leads Killian to a little known and never used servant’s entry. Hidden behind vines and nearly soldered shut by rusty hinges, the door, according the the plans Regina spent no small amount of gold acquiring, was originally built as a door for the kitchen stuff, particularly the mushroom gatherers who needed easy access to the pig barn and the forest.

It’s laughable security, as far as Regina is concerned, but she’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth as she yanks the door open with her magic.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a covert way into the palace treasury now, would you?” Killian asks as they step into the dark, dank hall.

She shoots him a look.

He shrugs. “Pirate. And if we’re looking for a way to ruin his legacy, then what better way than to rob his kingdom blind?”

As they get deeper into the passageway, Regina answers, “I can transport as much as you want to your ship’s hold. I just need to get eyes on the treasury. Which, no, there’s no covert way to get in. John may be stupid, but not _that_ stupid.”

Regina leads them upwards to another door, this one in much better repair. Peeking out of it, Regina already feels the residual effects of the magic dampeners. It’s uncomfortable.

The opulent parlor leading up to the large, embellished doors of the treasury isn’t empty.

“Four guards,” Killian notes. “No challenge at all.”

She raises a brow at him. “For just you? Because I can’t use my magic out there.”

He rolls his eyes. “Four is almost child’s play. Especially because it’s usually not the top brass soldiers who are assigned to treasury guard duty.”

His bravado has given way to easy confidence, so Regina doesn’t press further. “The magic dampeners are in the mirrors. There’s three of them in this room. You have to shatter them if you want all those riches on your ship.”

“Sounds like fun,” he answers, and before she can say anything further, he’s waltzing out the door.

“Excuse me, lads,” he calls out, and Regina grinds her teeth. So much for subtlety. “Do you perchance know the way to the water closet? I’ve heard the wonders of King John’s indoor plumbing, and I’m eager to test such luxuries out for myself.”

There’s a moment of silence before one of the soldiers says, “Lieutenant Jones?”

She tenses.

Killian sighs. “Bollocks.”

Then his sword is out and he’s upon the soldiers before they can so much as raise the alarm.

The one who recognized him is the first to go down, his throat cut neatly across. Killian knocks one back against the wall with a well placed kick, shattering one of the mirrors in the process.

The other two have managed to draw their swords, and it truly becomes a fight.

Over the din of clashing swords, she hears her brother laugh.

He parries a sloppy slash from one of them, and finds a slot in his armor where he can drive his sword up into his chest. Black blood spills out of the man’s mouth as Killian quickly draws his bloodied sword back out, and begins the process again, dispatching the other in a similar fashion. The knight he’d knocked out by kicking him into the mirror begins to stir, and Killian sheaths his sword, and takes out a dagger. He tilts the knight’s head forward and plunges the blade into the base of his skull.

It’s quiet compared to his last three kills, almost intimate in the way Killian lays him back against the wall, wipes the blood off on the lining of his coat before he sheaths the dagger as well.

He uses the hilt of his sword to shatter the two remaining mirrors.

Regina emerges, testing her magic with a quick fireball, and is pleased to feel no adverse affects from the dampeners.

“You have some skill with a sword,” she says.

He shrugs. “So I’ve been told. But if we could save the tearful compliments for later, I doubt that fight went unnoticed. We must move quickly.”

Regina agrees, and quickly unlocks the treasury door. She pulls them open, and is met with mountains of gold and jewels, treasures from far off kingdoms, fine silks and clothing, and so much jewelry it could rival Regina’s own extensive collection.

“My crew will be pleased,” Killian says, picking up an errant gold piece and bring it up to his nose. She gives him another look. He shrugs yet again. “I told you. _Pirate_.”

She rolls her eyes. “Stand back.” It’s more quantity than she’s used to moving, and across a great distance, but she knows better than to doubt her magical prowess. It takes quite a bit of effort and long sweeping hand gestures, but she soon fills the entire hold of the Jolly with spoils from Bravia’s treasury.

“Thank you, dear sister. So very generous of you to help me,” Killian says.

When she turns to respond, she sees him throw something, feels it splash across her and then--

She’s frozen in place.

_Squid ink._

“Killian,” she says warningly, trying to not let her fear show when she can’t move her limbs. “What are you doing?”

He picks up and examines a gold ring, trying it on his finger without urgency. “I thought it was quite obvious,” he says. He removes the ring, throwing it somewhere without looking. “I’m betraying you.”

“You--you can’t do that.” It’s the only thing that comes to mind in the moment, the only thing she can think when she watches the man that was her little brother add a few treasures to his pockets.

He grins at her, twisted and uncaring. It feels as though she’s had the wind taken out of her. “I just did.”

He turns toward the doors. “You can’t just leave me here! I’m defenseless,” she tries again.

“You underestimate me,” he says. “If someone comes upon you by accident, then it’s no concern of mine. There are shift changes of knights every four hours. This was a fresh contingent, so it will be over three hours until another group replaces them. Secondly, the closest body of knights are John’s personal guards. I doubt they heard the commotion.” He laughs. “He’s a bit barmy, likes to think he’s more capable than he is, and only carries four knights on his personal guard. Once I kill them, I kill him, and get out with the route you so generously showed me. Truly, I should thank you.”

“Killian,” she says, “you can’t take this from me. This is my revenge just as much as it is yours.”

He chuckles darkly. “Oh, I don’t know about that love. You see, you weren’t there. You didn’t watch the life drain from his eyes. That was my curse alone, you see.”

“But I can help you. We can help each other,” she says.

His eyes sharpen, matching the bite in his voice when he answers, “I neither need nor want your help.” He approaches her then, invading her space and making a chill race down her spine at her powerlessness. “I didn’t need it when I was a boy, confused about why his sister, his _hero_ , would sell him as though he were common cargo. I certainly don’t need you now.”

The words are tired, the hurt ringing through her old and and dull. “That’s not what happened,” she protests quietly. “Please, Killian.”

He has the nerve to smile at her. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? You can have the kingdom,” he says, “but I’ll have my revenge.”

She feels unchecked aggression flow through her when he begins to back away from her. She doesn’t see the little boy who she loved more than anything, doesn’t see the small hands that traced inked words across pages, doesn’t hear _Gina!_

She sees a man with darkness in him as surely as she has darkness in her.

“Killian!” she yells as he approaches the door. “Killian, don’t you dare leave me!”

“I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t.” He gives her another bow, deep and courtly and mocking. “Enjoy your coup, Your Majesty.”

Then he turns, and he doesn’t stop walking.

“Killian!” she yells again as he disappears, but it doesn’t stop him.


End file.
